Alphabets 1: In A Foreign Land
by DarkBeta
Summary: AU. Clamp School Detectives. Imonoyama Nokoru is a Guide. Takamura Suoh is a Sentinel. They’re in a world where such things don’t always work out well.
1. Chapter 1

_(Once upon a time Susan Foster created a Sentinel sub-universe, in which civilization recognized and relied upon Guides and Sentinels . . . with very different results to the status of each. It is a terrifying universe, but very readable. And i couldn't help wondering . . . how would other characters adapt to that universe? I have Foster-sama's permission to explore the GDP universe, but this is in no wise authentic or recognized as part of it_

_In this particular splinter-reality of a splinter-reality, the status of Guides and Sentinels is different in the cultures influenced by China than in those derived from Europe. [All those centuries of respect for scholars!] For those who don't know (and might care) 'senpai' is a title for someone senior or more experienced than the speaker, 'chan' for a junior or someone so close that politeness doesn't matter. I don't think i used any other fan-girl Japanese, but please forgive me if i slip!_

_You probably guessed already that Clamp School Detectives, The Sentinel and Susan Foster's GDP Universe are not mine. I have borrowed a few lines of dialogue from one episode of Clamp School Detectives.)_

Part 1: Prologue (Takamura Suoh)

One of the several hundred sunflowers planted alongside the path had been partly uprooted. The flower hadn't started to wither, but Suoh saw a slight limpness in the topmost leaves. He hated seeing bright things die. Gardening wasn't his skill, but he took the time to reset the sunflower's stem and tamp the earth around it. The flower was still strong. It should recover.

Coming along the path behind him, half a dozen girl students were crowded around the Imonoyama boy. A camera appeared, and Imonoyama Nokoru posed as if he were a television idol. It was embarassing, to see a boy of eight years so aware of his own charm. Suoh looked away.

Something was strange about Imonoyama Nokoru. The boy was far too pretty. Blonde hair and blue eyes and open friendliness guaranteed he would be the target of classroom bullies. He would never survive in a school that wasn't owned by his family.

Nokoru wasn't stupid though. Maybe his work for the Imonoyama electronics firm was family indulgence, but he held his own in college-level classes. Rumor said the American space program had been trying to hire him since he was six years old, and NASA wasn't an Imonoyama subsidiary. Not yet.

Ignoring the Imonoyama and his fans left Suoh vulnerable. A couple of the girls decided that two handsome boys were better than one. They were happy and energetic, pushing him into place beside their idol, and he couldn't bring himself to quash their spirits. The one carrying a camera backed away to snapshot range.

They would never have pursued Suoh alone. (And if they had, he would have evaded them early enough to avoid offense.) Only Nokoru attracted the universal attention of the Clamp Campus co-eds . . . from kindergarten right through college.

Suoh realized he had stared too long and hastily looked away. The camera clicked and buzzed. He thought the mob of female students would be disappointed with their photo, but he could feel only relief. What would they have seen on his face a moment earlier?

Imonoyama Nokoru wasn't isolated. Crowds surrounded him any time he was in public. Suoh was imagining things. He left as swiftly as possible, more swiftly than was really polite.

He knew his mother was concerned that he do well, after transferring to a new school in the middle of the year. Over tea she prodded him into mentioning Imonoyama-senpai, which was giving the boy too much attention. And then she distracted him with weapons practice -- at tea-time! Really, Mother was behaving very informally!

"You never know when in life you might encounter that person who will determine your destiny," she told him.

Why did adults say the same things over and over? Suoh knew he was a sentinel. He knew that every sentinel had to find a guide, and he would. Eventually. He was only seven. He wasn't going to tie himself to the spoilt lastborn son of a wealthy family, with no enemy but his own popularity.

His guide would be older. A lady who looked like his second-grade teacher, maybe, an heiress afraid of a hostile family and an avaricious world. Or a government official targeted by Chinese agents. Someone in such continual risk as to need not just a bodyguard, not just a sentinel, but a Takamura sentinel.

He put daydreams aside as he entered the practice area. A few minutes later the last of seven opponents raised his head from the mat.

"Suoh-chan is feeling very energetic today!"

The Elder said Suoh was advancing well (or at least didn't bring his staff down on Suoh's head, which came to the same thing). Preparing for bed, Suoh found all of the traps his family had left for him. He felt encouraged.

He had no classes with the other boy. Clamp Campus had over a thousand students and staff. Suoh didn't have to understand Nokoru, just avoid him.

It worked for most of the day. Suoh even left the campus by a different gate than usual. He was certain he'd gotten away safely, until a hand on his shoulder made him start. He couldn't remember the last time that anyone not a Takamura managed to sneak up on him!

He should have remembered that his opponent was an Imonoyama. Suoh's training meant he could hardly be unaware of the campus security systems. Perhaps it was strange that an eight-year-old would have access to them, but Suoh knew his own abilities too well to doubt another's.

He could not refuse his senpai's request for a few minutes of time. He followed the older boy to the nearby park, accepted a popsicle as if he could be bribed with sweets like some undisciplined child. Sentinel taste made most treats unbearable.

"I know you're not much of a sweet-tooth. It's okay. The 'Sleet' popsicle is delicious without being too sugary," Imonoyama-senpai said, and went to greet a flock of birds.

How did he know what Suoh's tastes were? Worse still, he was right. The flavor of the ice had subtleties a sentinel could appreciate.

The birds gathered about the youngest Imonoyama as eagerly as the girl students had. Finally Suoh realized what intelligence and luck and the capacity to persuade added up to. This Imonoyama was a guide.

It made him one of the very few people in Japan, or the world, of whom Suoh had reason to be wary. Nokoru had sought him out, offered him attention and refreshment, but neither the Imonoyamas nor the Takamuras had been notified of his intent. That did not look well. Suoh left the barely-tasted popsicle in a trash bin as he walked away.

Several dark-suited men hurried into the park as he came out. It wasn't surprising that an Imonoyama -- even a young and unimportant one -- had bodyguards. They were badly trained, to have lost track of the boy for so long!

At tea that afternoon Suoh was still trying to find the words for what he'd guessed, when his mother was called away by a house servant. She returned with another woman, Imonoyama-sama, who was the Chair of the Clamp Campus.

Suoh told her all he knew of the dark-suited men, who were not Imonoyama guards after all. Before she left he bowed to her.

"One who has failed in his duty as a sentinel and a Takamura makes no claim to the shelter of this house. As ronin, therefore, this one pledges that Imonoyama Nokoru will return to you."

His mother, the head of Takamura, covered her mouth as if to hide amusement. Her other hand brushed the side of the tatami mat.

"Assuredly your record as a Takamura is ended. But why do you think you will be allowed to leave this house?"

"Takamura-san! (He rolled to avoid a flight of darts from the wall.) I am (leapt above spear points thrust from under the floor) the best of my generation."

Just after he reached the door, an explosion left a small charred circle there. Shouts and cries receded toward the front gate.

"Should I wish him luck?" the Imonoyama asked.

"Luck is the province of a guide, surely. That one who has no family, yet he has skill."

"Then may it happen that both our sons will return to us."


	2. Chapter 2

Alphabets 1: In Another Land, Chapter 2, by DarkBeta

_(Warning: harm and threats of harm to a child. This chapter is the reason the story is rated not for kids.)_

The discussion continued long after sunset. Casablanca had dinner brought, fine china and silver on a white linen cloth, his favored dishes, and a choice of everything from milk tea to Chablis for drink. She knew far too much about his life. Nokoru respected an opponent whose research was so thorough, but he did not eat.

He did not show her his chagrin at being so easy to kidnap. He knew better than to remove himself from the Clamp Campus surveillance net.

Takamura's dislike had been unexpected. The thread of wariness that flared under it was even worse. That any student on the campus should actually fear him . . . ! He shouldn't have risked a private meeting though. Especially since he hadn't changed Takamura's dislike, nor begun to understand it.

Casablanca's arguments deteriorated to repetition. Nokoru found his mind returning over and over to the few words he and Takamura had exchanged. The pain of that rejection was still pleasanter than what he felt from Casablanca. Some of her desires were contradictory, and none of them were pleasant.

Loaded words matched with clouds of emotion said he was to be her key to wealth and power and security, and a substitute for the child she chose not to have, and a confidant too helpless to betray her. At the same time he'd be her avatar, young and male and cunning, and live the life Casablanca wanted for herself and couldn't have. She'd punish him for that, consciously or not. As victim, scapegoat and trophy he'd prove her strength and cunning.

There was worse. He didn't want to know these things. He didn't want to sympathise with the child Casablanca had been, who had no choice but to learn these desires.

The sign on his fan read, 'Immoveable Mountain' as he offered her an alternative. The Imonoyamas could build another life for her, a place to use her talent for better goals. He felt the match between her needs and his offer . . . so her rage took him by surprise.

Casablanca had less restraint than the adults he was accustomed to. Her slap knocked him sideways on the divan. Nokoru sat up. He'd bitten the inside of his cheek. He swallowed blood, feeling sick, and used a handkerchief to wipe the corner of his mouth.

"You agreed this exertion can't give you what you want," he said. "You cannot force me to think for you."

He saw the blow coming this time. He tried to move away from it, but athletics were not his strength. He landed on the floor. Somewhere under him an engine rumbled, but he had no time to consider uses for that knowledge.

"Do you think I'll give you back? Do you think you can go back to your happy life, because you've beaten me?" she snarled. "I'll see you broken, even if that's the only profit I get!"

Casablanca kicked him until he stopped trying to get up. She avoided his head and his belly. In spite of her words, she still hoped to use him. He went on trying to explain her mistake, until her dark-suited thugs arrived with handcuffs, a blindfold, and a gag.

He went like a parcel where she sent him, on the floor of a sedan with a guard's foot on his back. The driver was stolid. The guard was uneasy. Nokoru could have used that uncertainty, if only he could talk! Casablanca hadn't made the mistake of underestimating an eight year-old opponent, but her respect was onerous.

He would escape. He didn't doubt it. He wasn't going to fight his way free of the car and the guards though.

He was often clumsy. He'd hurt himself before. It seemed very strange that someone would hurt him on purpose. Hatred was worse though. Fear was worse. Did Casablanca guess how much harm her storm of emotions did?

With love and gratitude for the cells working so hard to heal him, he set pain aside. The situation wasn't difficult. It didn't involve the campus and people he cared for. He would have liked to help Casablanca to a place where she'd be happier, but she chose otherwise. Really, all he had to do was get loose and go home.

By now campus security was searching Tokyo. It might be fun to make his own way back to Clamp Campus. He could nap under his desk until someone found him. The Campus Chair wouldn't worry yet, not with so little reason.

He didn't like being alone though. Dealing with adult thoughts and desires was harder when there weren't other children around. Sometimes even his bodyguards, though he respected their loyalty and duty, hurt to endure. The Chair was always patient when he scheduled yet another school festival, so he could wash himself in the easy joy of children having fun.

Nokoru let himself drift, just for a little while, into his favorite fantasy. It didn't differ much from real life. He hadn't lied when he told Casablanca he was satisfied. The friends he imagined liked him (of course) and admired him (of course). (People mostly did.) They were with him on the campus, because he couldn't imagine being anywhere else.

They were athletic. They could smash a gang of kidnappers instead of suborning them. They cooked delicious food. (All the Imonoyamas did like their food!) They saw he wasn't perfect. If he got lazy or silly or arrogant (which he knew he did, when everything was so easy and so boring) someone scolded him. And they never left him.

It couldn't happen. People were too happy with the face he showed to look for anything else. And if he liked someone it would be disgraceful to drag them into the plots and violence he attracted. What if Takamura hadn't run away before Casablanca's goons were in position? They might have hurt him. They might have kidnapped him too, and there would be a second bruised, terrified child in the car.

For pride, for family, and for logic, he couldn't have surrendered to Casablanca. If she'd threatened his schoolmates though, the people he was responsible to and for . . . . No, it was better to be alone.

The car turned off the street and turned into an echoing space. A concrete garage, he guessed, but not a big one.

"We're here," the driver said.

The guard opened the door and got out. Nokoru risked feeling about him on the floor. Finding a pick for his cuffs would have been nice, but there was no useful litter. Instead he dropped a few threads worried from his uniform shirt, wedging them along the edge of the carpet.

He froze. Something was coming. Someone . . . . He drew shields in around his mind and reinforced them until the driver and guard were nothing but voices to him.

"Where is he? I don't see anyone," the guard complained. "Maybe we should just drive back."

"So the arrogant Lily wants a puppy taught obedience? How nice to be valued – since she's always turned up her nose at my section before!"

The guard was startled. He tried to sound threatening, but Nokoru could hear his uncertainty. Hear it, but not feel it.

"If you're not going to cooperate . . ." the guard said.

"Now, now. No need for threats! I'm happy to do a favor for the queen of lilies. Fetch out the puppy."

Pulling him out of the car, the guard was not ungentle. Nokoru tried to fix his mind on that. People could be kind. The world could be sane.

"Ooh, pretty, pretty. I see why the Lily's willing to bend her standards a bit. Put him on the cart. Tell your boss he'll do what she wants when he gets back, whatever she wants. He'll be sobbing for the chance. Such a pretty noise. Pretty, pretty."

Nokoru heard an electric crackle and had estimated the wattage – low enough not to do a child much harm, probably, so the taser must be custom-made, and who would make such a thing? – when existence flared and tore.


	3. Chapter 3

**Alphabets 1, Chapter 3****, by DarkBeta**

_(You will complain that these seven- and eight-year olds behave as if they're thirty at least. All i can say is, they're like that in the original too! If i didn't mention it already, kunai are ninja throwing knives or spikes.)_

He wanted to head to the park, to the last place where he'd seen Imonoyama Nokoru, as if Suoh might track him from there like a hound. He'd told the Imonoyama woman of a parked dark car not far from the corner, the front angled out from the curb so it was placed to accelerate. If escape was planned beforehand, the driver knew which way he'd turn and parked for a getaway.

Velocity and aim came naturally to a Takamura. Jerking the car rightward at the corner would waste momentum. Whoever parked the car meant to go ahead, or to the left. Surely kidnappers would want instinctively to break their trail? Leftward then, which implicated one quadrant of Tokyo.

No, the park would tell him nothing now. Suoh headed for Clamp Campus security.

The offices swarmed with personnel, on-duty, off-duty, or long retired. Infiltration wasn't Suoh's specialty, but he came in from the roof and stayed undetected in the crowd. Here was a war-room full of computers and displays, probably more impressive than anything the Self Defence Forces had. (Imonoyama Industries supplied the SDF, but taxpayers couldn't be convinced to pay for upgrades quite as quickly as Clamp Campus was.)

Here were maps, with viewpoints zooming in and out as searchers were directed across Tokyo. They were looking for the same sort of building he wanted, cross-referenced with criminal organizations or with Imonoyama rivals. Suoh found a vantage point, holding himself by kunai to the ceiling. Not residences or apartment mansions; the building would have to be large enough for their prisoners to be unobserved. Not the close-built maze of the high crime area, where neighbors saw too much and would speak to money though they were silent to the police.

The vector Suoh thought likeliest held two possible sites. He hitched a ride on one of the cars, as the security forces fanned out. When they grouped for assault, he vaulted ahead.

The entrance to the first location had no familiar scent. The second, though, had wisps of familiarity. He followed them upward. The Clamp assault made his path easier. The hired soldiers went down to face it. Suoh ghosted through empty corridors and stairwells.

Imonoyama was there, in scent if not in person. Suoh catalogued smears of blood. Bitter sweat. The smell of pain. A woman chuckling to herself, halfway to madness.

"Have you come to get him back, little boy? He's gone. You won't find him. Not until he's trained. Not until he's mine, mine, mine!"

She might have been cunning, but she was soft. She struck a pose. He supposed she meant to look seductive, which was ridiculous. Certainly she was taken aback when kunai pinned her clothes to the wall. He had to jump onto the back of a chair to hold a blade to her throat.

"Where," he said.

He thrust the kunai through one dangling earring. A second blade was in his hand before her eyes turned toward the first.

"Is."

He destroyed the second earring. The third blade in his hand stopped just above her eye.

"He."

The criminal woman was only half-mad. She talked.

"Corner of Market and Canal Streets, four blocks from the harbor. Offices of Koai Import and Export."

Suoh pulled the blade back. She flinched, waiting for one more blow, but he couldn't afford to waste another weapon.

"Wait there for the police."

The worst of it was, he had to wait himself. He had no way to cross the city quickly on his own. When Clamp Campus had the right information though, once again he beat them into the target site.

The offices were empty. News of the first raid had run ahead. A phone call would have done it. Whoever that woman turned the Imonoyama boy over to, he had found out his danger and run. There might be passages, or some sort of hidden escape. Those didn't matter. What mattered was where they'd gone.

Several pads lay on the floor of a locked room. At least three were still slightly warm. A gold hair was caught on the nap of one. He was already certain the boy had been there, so he left the evidence for Clamp security to find.

Whoever had occupied these offices, he couldn't afford to leave witnesses behind. Children would be awkward burdens for men on the run.

"Four blocks from the harbor," the kidnapper had said.

The first agents into the house reported a brief dark shadow passing them.

Suoh didn't think about how the sea could swallow unwanted baggage. Failure was not allowed. When he reached the nearest wharf, he saw several moored ships, and one small freighter chugging for open water.

He sat cross-legged at the end of the whart and closed his eyes. Sight was no use right now, and salt and mud drowned out scent. He listened. Far away he heard children's voices. Frightened voices. Sounds unsuitable for a cargo ship. And the sea.

His breath slowed. His skin chilled. He would have been quite helpless if an enemy found him.

A gull decided he'd been still so long, he'd make a good perch. It was very surprised when he swept it off his hair and threw it into the sky.

The sun was nearly to the horizon. The freighter was just leaving the harbor. Suoh did not curse himself for the loss of time. It was a hazard of being a sentinel, and a Takamura who hadn't found his One.

He recognized the air and the sound of the water. He'd been in the area before. Clamp Campus had a boathouse nearby, for when the sailing teams needed more challenge than the lakes on campus.

It might have seemed foolish to think he could catch up to the freighter, but this close to shore it had to go slowly to protect dolphins and turtles. And even if he wasn't a Takamura any longer, he was still the best of his generation.

Sailboats were too visible; motorboats too audible. (And their keys were unfortunately well secured.) Suoh found a small dark canoe. A few times he was able to surf the bow waves of other ships, and once a dolphin seized a dangling hawser and dragged him in the right direction for twenty minutes or so. He reached the cargo ship several hours after dark, but that made boarding easier.

There was always something refreshing about coming out of a zone. Suoh was tired and hungry, but not as sleepy as he should have been. He dodged a few sailors carrying paint and canvas, and found the locked hold without difficulty. Undogging it seemed a very noisy process, but no-one came to investigate. He dropped a line into the darkness and let himself down it.

Light could be as much of a weapon as a blade. Suoh held a penlight at arm's length over his head. Anyone shooting for an adult's center of mass would probably miss him altogether.

"Who's there?"

The light picked one face out of the dark hold, and then several. In a few scans Suoh had a clear image of Imonoyama Nokoru standing defensively in front of a few dozen other children. Suoh shone the light on his own face briefly and then flicked it off. An instant later he was beside the Imonoyama.

"Takamura? Ah, you're one of those Takamuras! I didn't need to worry about you!"

"I'm Suoh. Just . . . Suoh. There's a boat. Come on."

He pulled at the Imonoyama's arm. The boy shifted his weight to pull back.

"We have to get the girls out of here. They're taking us to the Americas. Some of them are guides!"

"I have to take you back."

"No."

Suoh thought about just grabbing him, carrrying him up the rope and off the ship. It wouldn't be difficult, not for one raised as a Takamura. As if he understood, the Imonoyama stepped back. When Suoh flashed his light again, the blond boy was so surrounded by the other prisoners he couldn't be pulled free.

"It's just a canoe!"

"Dear girls," the Imonoyama said, "we have a chance for some of us to escape the ship. Let us work together to choose the best candidates!"

Suoh sighed. He really had hoped to be a Takamura again. Guides and sentinels protected the community though. If the Imonoyama insisted on protecting these girls, Suoh had to help.

He expected tears and disagreement and panic, but he hadn't encountered a gathering of guides before. He didn't have to block a stampede. Instead Imonoyama seemed to have difficulty finding volunteers, when those who stayed were still in danger.

They decided on a test of height. The smaller the passengers were, the more of them could fit into the canoe. Even then, Suoh found several girls trying to stand on tip-toe as they were measured.

The taller girls helped hoist the little ones up to the top of the hold. Imonoyama led them out on deck, deftly avoiding the few crewmembers, and then Suoh carried them down to the canoe. When it was riding as low in the water as he thought safe, crowded with children strapped two at a time into adult-sized lifejackets, he let the hawser fall.

They weren't as quiet as he'd like, sculling away from the ship's side, but no-one came to look. Safely clear of the wake, they drew a greenish tarpaulin over their heads. Even if the canoe was still in sight by morning, Suoh doubted whether anyone shipboard would spot them.

Now, when it was too late, he wondered why he'd gone along with the Imonoyama's plan. The others didn't have his training. It was no rescue, if they were left in worse straits.

"They're just children. They may not get back to land safely."

"They will," the Imonoyama said. "And . . . the boat is taking guides, to the Americas."

He lost his smile for a moment, but then he found it again.

"They'll tell the authorities, and then the rest of us will be rescued!"

"They'll be safer if no-one notices they're gone. Let's go back to the hold."

The Imonoyama, who'd managed to herd the smallest, clumsiest girls safely to the canoe, lost his grip on the rope as he came back down. Suoh had to run at full speed to get under him, and ended up with a sprained ankle. He limped back to the other prisoners, holding on to a very apologetic Imonoyama's shoulder.

When Suoh finally found his One, he certainly hoped that guide would be less troublesome than the Imonoyama.

They were asleep when the crew covered over the identifying numbers with a different code. Not even Suoh woke as the ship changed course.

Hours later an airborne search converged along the ship's original path. All they found was empty water.


End file.
